Tell Me Again
by a tattered rose
Summary: Every day is a story. And there are some stories we want to hear over and over again. A bit of AlexBobby fluff.


a/n: Old response to a Christmas challenge, as given by Tracy. A version was posted to AI a while back (if it looks familiar to anyone). Has undergone construction since then. This is one of my rare attempts at fluff, since everyone deserves a break now and again :

By and by: I wanted her to have a dog, and I'm not sure if she actually has one or not, so if Freud is in fact someone's invention, props to you, and if you want him out, give the word.

* * *

"This is a story. A story is any old day, any old event, but the stories we tell, and the stories we want to hear, are the ones that capture our hearts, make out imaginations soar to the limits of possibility and take us along for the ride as the personalities populating the tales win or lose, and in-so-doing justify the part of ourselves which want what they got.

But all the different stories exist. There are many stories I could tell about Robert (Bobby) Goren, and Alexandra (Alex) Eames, two of New York's finest, working out of the Major Case Squad. Many I could tell, but I know what you want to hear. You want to hear what I want to tell, and so together we fulfill a purpose.

This day ended very much like any other. On any given day Goren and Eames would finish up the last bit of paperwork they could stand. Eames would throw away the latest round of coffee cups, Goren would get their coats. She would re-file, and he would help her on with her coat, staying attentively by her shoulder as they walked down to the garage.

Whoever was driving would get in the driver's seat, and this would usually be Alex, even if it was Bobby's car. Some days they would talk, some days they would listen to the radio, and some days, like on the day of our story, they would ride in silence untarnished by anything but perfect equanimity.

Today she was driving, and today it was his car. So she pulled into her lot, and they both got out: she to go home, he to cross over to the driver's side. Bobby, as you know, is much too big to change seats inside the car, as Alex sometimes would if it were very cold out.

Tonight it wasn't very cold, but it was snowing, and when their paths intersected, there by the hood, they were surrounded by the falling snow, and glorified in the curve of the headlights.

"Merry Christmas Eames" he said to her.

"Merry Christmas Bobby" she said back, and looked up at him with warmth in her eyes. He smiled because she smiled- he had known for a long time that her smile was something special.

Bobby is a great detective, he knows all about how to find out information. So he said "I was surprised you worked late. I thought you'd want to spend time with your family."

And she replied "Everyone is visiting my sister this year." She tried not to look sad, but Bobby knew her well enough to see that she missed as greatly as she would be missed. "I didn't want to trek all the way out to L.A. – too much to do, with work and all."

"And you don't want to leave Freud in the kennel." When Alex's smile faded the warmth left the world. So Bobby started to tease her, hoping to bring it back.

"I haven't found one that doesn't drug the animals, and I hate it when he walks out and can barely recognize me." Her mouth twisted in an attempt to not let him win, to not let him coax a smile out of her. A few moments under his gaze and she gave up and moved closer, using his body to hide herself from the wind.

A wonderful detective, Alex wasn't about to let Bobby off easy and asked him "What are you doing for the holidays?" Major Case had lightened staffing for the week after Christmas, though if anything big came up, the holiday would of course be cut short.

Literally pinned by her eyes, Bobby stammered something about stacks of reading. He could see she wasn't convinced, would keep pushing him so he told her about midnight mass, and how beautiful the ceremony was. In trying to explain he realized he didn't know how to tell her he wanted her to go with him. Looking back it must seem quite silly, all he had to say was "Alex, I want you to go." But he couldn't think of the right words so in the end all he said was "It's a beautiful ceremony."

Alex had more power over Bobby at that moment than anyone ever had. And all she said was "They won't mind that I'm not Catholic?"

They were both smiling again as he said "Why should they? If anyone asks we can say I'm trying to convert you."

She said something then that wasn't stupid, that was more true than she knew. And Bobby was scared by what she had said and tried to leave, to hide away until everything was back as it had been for so long.

"Bobby." She called after him.

He couldn't look at her, and while he knew she was confused he could only watch the pavement grow steadily whiter. "I should, uh, get home, let you feed Freud." He didn't want to go, not really, but he would have left except then she said:

"I believe I was promised a beautiful ceremony." And she slipped her small hand into his. Now Alex is the strongest woman alive, but Bobby is still twice her size. Yet he knew then that there was no way he could pull out of her grasp.

He looked up at her then, and saw her smile.

"And I'm hungry. Take me to dinner?"

When a beautiful woman asks a man for dinner, there is only one thing he can say. "Of course."

"Good." Her smile was smug, and it was the nicest smile Bobby had ever seen. "Now turn off the car. I want to change."

She gave him a smile, in defiance of the cold around them, and received one in return. The car was turned off, and they went up to her apartment together, hands clasped all the way. Alex changed into a beautiful dress while Bobby fed Freud, and then they went together first for dinner, then to mass. And that, my friend, is the end of this tale. Although, as I am sure you know, it is just the beginning; a prelude, of sorts, to many more yet to come."

* * *

"I've been waiting for you." Alex let herself rest against the doorframe and yawned contently as her husband and daughter looked up at the sound of her voice.

"I'm sorry- She was awake when I came in to- How long have you been there?"

"Not long." At his pointed look she ran a knuckle over her mouth, and disconcertedly licked the smear of chocolate off her finger. "But I must say I'm a little hurt I didn't get invited to story time."

Bobby had the grace to look embarrassed, but Alice, at four months, would never allow her daddy to have been in the wrong.

"I just hope you didn't make me sound too bad- she isn't supposed to hate me until her teenage years." Alex yawned again, with a sleepy smile, and Alice followed suite. Tiny fists reached for her eyes and both of her parents thought back on the years that had ended so well.

"Of course not." Nothing but his wife would induce Bobby to put down his little girl. He did so now, gently tucking her in before he turned around. "I am a little afraid that I was too complementary of you. Maybe you should tell her your version tomorrow. We'll let her figure out her own truth." His voice was deep and soft, and he let his breath warm her skin before licking a last smudge of chocolate from her lower lip.

"So you've already pegged her down as a detective?" Alex matched his tone, and pulled him closer.

"She has got the best genes. Though if she wants to be a ballerina, I do promise to keep her in those little- tutus. But the real question is- are there any more of those cookies left?"


End file.
